Convergence
by msdevindanielle
Summary: Due to an interesting set of circumstances, FitzSimmons end up spending the night alone in a supposedly haunted house. Set in between Repairs and The Bridge.


This is for Tumblr user TheLateNightStoryTeller in celebration of the FitzSimmons Secret Valentine exchange. I hope you like it, despite the fact that I am a horrible Valentine and didn't manage to get this up until now. It's been so lovely getting to know you this holiday season. 3

Also. The scientific accuracy in this story is nonexistent.

* * *

Fitz had nearly gotten the last bits of shaving cream out of his right eyebrow when he heard a soft knock on the open bathroom door. He didn't even need to turn his head to know she was there, but the telltale hesitant rap would've given her away regardless. She was a creature of the strangest habits, habits that he barely gave a second thought to anymore, although she hadn't knocked for him in years. Fitz almost smirked. This must be guilt at the door.

Not that he was particularly keen on talking with her at the moment.

"Come to apologize, have you now?" he muttered, still refusing to look away from his task. "Or was assaulting a man in his bunk not enough for you? You've now decided the loo is an acceptable place to prank your unsuspecting victims?"

Jemma heaved a long sigh. "Fitz, for the last time, it wasn't me!"

"Oh, don't pretend this isn't your handiwork, Simmons," Fitz retorted, indicating his affected eyebrow as he finally turned to face her. "You know, it's awfully rich of you to criticize my gas-mask idea when this is the best you could come up with."

Jemma's expression betrayed little else besides her annoyance. "We have a mission," she said simply, rolling her eyes before she disappeared from the doorway.

Fitz opened and closed his mouth a few times, feeling a low whine in the back of his throat. "At this hour?" he groaned quietly, even though he knew she couldn't hear him anymore. He made a feeble attempt to extract the final remnants of the offending substance from his face. "Can't even get a single bloody night's rest around here," he grumbled to himself as he sulked over to the comm room, where everyone was already assembled.

Coulson jumped right into his spiel once Fitz had arrived, not bothering with any kind of pleasantry. "We've got reports of residential disturbances in Batesville," he explained as he pulled up a few news coverage articles on the Holocom. "Just outside the old Staticorp Particle Accelerator Complex."

"Batesville?" Ward repeated, his forehead creased in confusion. "You mean…where-"

"We picked up Miss Hutchins the other day?" Coulson finished with a grim nod. "Yeah." He swiped the screen in front of him to reveal an aerial view of a neighborhood street, swiveling the image to focus on a single building. Despite the low resolution of the satellite picture, Fitz still thought he was able to see a perimeter of yellow tape surrounding the structure.

"There's a house that sits across from the northeast edge of the complex," Coulson continued. "After the blast, the Department of Energy didn't want to take any chances and had the family relocate until they deemed the property safe enough to live in. Over the past week or so, local authorities have been receiving anonymous calls about the house, reports of strange noises being heard from inside and the occasional flash of light. Only they didn't give it a lot of attention at the time, mostly because they were preoccupied with our most recently disproved telekinetic. But that all changed last night."

The screen changed to show a muted interview, where a small group, situated at a substantial distance from the building, was taking turns speaking into a microphone. Fitz could see the red and blue lights from a few police cars in the background, and noticed that everyone in the group aside from the reporter had their faces blurred.

Coulson gestured towards the video. "Three teenagers broke into the house at around one o'clock this morning to…do whatever kids do in abandoned buildings these days, I guess."

Fitz heard a snort from over to his left. "Come on, A.C.," Skye chuckled. "You're telling me you never wanted to break into a supposedly haunted house when you were a teenager?"

Coulson didn't smile. "Well, whatever they saw in there scared them enough to flee the house and turn themselves in. They talk about hearing strange voices, seeing apparitions. The whole town's spooked now, and from what we've seen over the past couple days, it's probably for good reason."

"We just dropped Hannah off for debrief," May reminded them. "She's still at the Hub."

"Exactly," Coulson replied, letting the reality of the situation sink in.

"Wait," Skye said, breaking the silence as she held up her hand. "So…what are you saying? Tobias isn't really gone? He's just…back in his hometown, terrorizing more people now?"

"We don't know," Coulson replied as he minimized the current pages on the Holocom. "That's what I'm gonna need you guys to figure out. May's set a course for a small airfield just outside Batesville, but we should be arriving in less than an hour. Skye, I'll have you talk to the kids, get their stories, see if it matches what we know of Tobias. FitzSimmons, you'll be in charge of assessing the structure of the house, maybe figure out if we're dealing with another portal or something."

"If I may, sir," Jemma spoke up, looking oddly excited at the prospect of investigating a building that might or might not house a dimension-jumping psychopath. The rest of the room turned their attention to her, and Fitz repressed a shudder at the memory of her being nearly killed by the madman with a plumber's wrench. Twice.

"I've been reading up on Dr. Foster's reports regarding the incidents in London," she explained, moving to Fitz's other side so she could pull up her research. "It all has to do with a cosmic event that the Asgardians refer to as the Convergence." A diagram showing a series of overlapping ovals displayed on the screen in front of them.

"Yeah, it's pretty fascinating, actually," Fitz jumped in automatically, allowing Jemma to move the projection around as he continued. "You see, there are Nine Realms-"

"Earth is one such realm," Jemma clarified. "Only they call us Midgard-"

"And during the Convergence, they enter a specific form of alignment that causes the boundaries between each realm to grow thinner, and-"

"This results in several spatial anomalies that can include shifts in gravity _and_, like we've already seen, the formation of invisible portals that can allow objects-"

"And Thor-"

"To move between realms, which all supposedly occurs at random," Jemma finished with a grin.

"And this…Convergence," May interrupted, apparently unfazed by their enthusiasm. "It's still happening?"

"Well…not quite," Jemma admitted, only seeming a bit deflated. "It's a cosmic event that occurs once every five thousand years or so. _But_," she countered as she used her fingertips to move the ovals away from each other. "While all nine of the realms might not be properly aligned anymore, the Convergence happened recently enough that we think it'd be entirely plausible for there to be a _partial_ alignment-"

"Mmhmm, perhaps with two or three," Fitz agreed. "And the blast at the complex was able to open up that window a bit more, so to speak."

The room was quiet for a few moments, and aside from Jemma's naturally animated expression, Fitz noticed mostly blank stares around the Holocom.

"Yeah, I only followed about half of that," Coulson said before he quickly went on. "You know what, though? I trust you two know what you're talking about. Which is why I'm sending you out there. But we've got another problem on our hands."

He took control of the projection again, using both of his hands to pull up an interactive map of the eastern seaboard. "We've detected some heat signatures from a facility in North Carolina that are _very_ similar to those we saw in L.A. with Mr. Peterson."

Ward straightened up and folded his arms. "Centipede?" he asked hesitantly.

"That's what we're gonna find out," Coulson replied. "After we drop off FitzSimmons and Skye in Batesville, we'll head over there to scope out the place. I'd ask you to stay too, Ward, but I'd rather have as much tactical support as possible in case we run into any super soldiers."

"Uh…" Ward began, something akin to worry flashing in his eyes. "Sir, are you sure that's the best-"

"They'll be fine," Coulson said crisply. "Their mission is assessment only." He turned so that he could look between Fitz and Jemma, his gaze lingering a little longer on Skye. "You all got that? It means you do not engage under _any_ circumstances. If you run into trouble, any sign of Tobias or whatever is actually in that house, you evacuate immediately, and you call for backup. We've got a couple teams in Salt Lake City that can dispatch at a moment's notice. What I _don't_ want is for you to take matters into your own hands."

"Understood, sir," Jemma insisted, speaking for the three of them. Fitz found himself nodding along with her. He sure as hell wasn't going to hang around that building for longer than was absolutely necessary.

"Um, sir?" Skye spoke up, more timidly than Fitz had ever heard her say anything. "Are you saying you want me to talk to these people…unsupervised?"

Coulson's lips twitched upwards in a minute smirk. "They're just kids, Skye," he reasoned. "All you've got to do is get their side of the story, ask the right questions. Unless you don't think that's something you can do?"

"No, no," Skye protested quickly, clearing her throat. "I, uh…I can do it," she smiled.

"Good," Coulson nodded. He was almost out the doorway when he paused, undoubtedly sensing the question on all of their lips.

"You can take the SUV," he sighed, and immediately spoke over their wordless excitement before they could say anything. "_But_…Simmons drives."

Under any normal circumstances, Fitz might have argued that he was actually the better driver. But he had a feeling he'd want as much rest time as possible in preparation for their task. And besides, Coulson's focus was on Skye's visible protestation.

"Not gonna happen, Skye," he grimaced. "You failed your driver's test three times."

Skye glanced around the room, looking mortified. "I didn't…you don't…" she stammered. "Those records don't exist anymore."

Coulson simply raised an eyebrow in response, letting Skye come to the inevitable conclusion herself.

"Right," she muttered as she gave Fitz and Jemma a sarcastic smile. "Yay, S.H.I.E.L.D."

* * *

The low rumble of the engine wasn't enough to keep Fitz awake, but the combination of the uneven country road they were traveling on and the nonstop chatter at the front of the truck was a different story.

"Yeah, so keep as many lights on as you can," Skye said in between a bite of her crisps. "'Cause then you just make everything harder on yourself, you know? Oh! And if you're running away from something, don't run _up_ the stairs, okay? That's just a dumbass move that you can totally avoid. Now that I think about it, don't go _down_ any stairs either. Just…avoid stairs. Stay on level ground."

Jemma's melodic laughter drifted back from the driver's seat, but Fitz didn't really find the sound unpleasant. "Skye, what on earth are you going on about?" she asked.

Fitz heard a light thump as Skye hit the armrest or something. "_Simmons_," she replied in indignation. Her voice was coming out a bit muffled, as if she still had some crisps in her mouth but couldn't wait any longer to admonish Jemma. "This is How to Survive a Horror Movie One-Oh-One. We're in the middle of nowhere, Utah. You can't just waltz into a haunted house unprepared."

Fitz had a comment at the ready, but he was so tired that he let Jemma take the reins. "You know the house isn't _actually_ haunted, right?" she said, still laughing a little. "Those kids are most likely paranoid because of everything that's happened with Hannah. Probably worked themselves into a frenzy like the rest of the town, seeing things that aren't there, giving explanations for things they don't fully understand and all that."

"Look," Skye argued, and Fitz could practically see her shaking her head in his mind's eye. "Three days ago, I would've said the same exact thing. But you guys were on that plane, too. And you know this could be Tobias again. So just…be careful, is all I'm saying."

"We'll be fine, Skye," Fitz reassured her, hoping his voice was coming out in more than a mumble. "We always are." He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, finding that no matter how he turned there was always a seat buckle digging into his side. "What I don't understand," he complained, his eyes still shut tight, "is why we can't bloody wait until morning."

Jemma sighed audibly. "Fitz, we've already gone over this," she replied with affected patience. "All the disturbances were reported in between one and three in the morning, which means that if there _is _a partial convergence between realms, it probably depends upon the planet's rotation."

Deep down, he knew she was right, but Fitz wasn't quite ready to relinquish his argument. "Still could wait to do a preliminary assessment for when the sun's up," he grumbled.

"Then we'd have to spend another entire day in order to- Fitz!" Jemma cried suddenly, her voice sounding somewhat louder. She must have glanced behind her seat and seen him sprawled across the middle of the truck. "If we get into a wreck at this speed, non-corporeal entities will be the least of your worries. For goodness' sake, fasten your seatbelt."

Fitz muttered some kind of assent, but for one reason or another he couldn't force his body into a seated position. Jemma must have noticed, because he heard her sigh again.

"Hey, aren't you a genius engineer?" Skye asked in what Fitz presumed was a rhetorical question. He could hear the smile in her voice but didn't appreciate the mockery. "Don't you know better than anyone else how hard you'd go through the windshield?"

Fitz thought about arguing with her, telling her that he could, in fact, calculate that force at a moment's notice, but that with the way he was positioned he was more likely to hit the front seats instead. He felt like it wouldn't exactly help his case, though, since that scenario could very well kill him on impact too.

"Got shot at in Peru," Jemma murmured. "Went in dark in Ossetia without an extraction plan, but _now_ he's going to get himself bloody killed because he couldn't be bothered to follow the most basic of safety measures."

"All right, all _right_, I'm up," Fitz groaned, pushing up on the seat with his hands and loudly fastening the restraint, all whilst still managing to keep his eyes defiantly closed. "Don't get your panties in a twist."

He expected Jemma to make some annoyed remark at his words, but it was actually Skye who replied. "Oh," she said, as if she'd forgotten something. "That's another thing."

Fitz's ears perked up, although he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what line of thought Skye had gone down. "That's…another thing for…what?" Jemma asked slowly, sounding about as wary to hear Skye's answer as Fitz felt.

"Whatever you do," she warned them, taking another bite of her crisps. "Whatever happens in there, no matter how tempting it may be…you cannot, under any circumstances…have sex."

Fitz's eyes flew open. "Now, that's…not-"

"Honestly, Skye," Jemma spoke at the same time. "What could have possibly-"

"It's not even…I mean, really, it doesn't-"

"Led you to presume that that would be amongst our priorities-"

"Make any…sense, I-I don't-"

"_Okay_, you guys," Skye laughed, giving Fitz and Jemma an odd look. "Relax. How to Survive a Horror Movie, remember?"

"Oh," Jemma squeaked. "Right. Yes. Of course." She cleared her throat and pointed vaguely towards the passenger seat. "You know, you should really put your legs down, Skye. This _is_ Agent Coulson's car, after all, and even though he's given us the responsibility of driving it around, we're still only borrowing."

Skye set her empty bag of crisps on the center console and grinned at Jemma. "Oh, come on, Simmons," she said, keeping her legs in an upright position. "This is our first official mission by ourselves. I think we've earned the right to live a little."

Fitz knew it was coming, but it was much too late for him to save her. "Get your feet off my dashboard, Skye," Coulson's voice came crackling in through the speakers.

If Skye hadn't had a seatbelt fastened, she probably would've flown a foot in the air in her surprise. "The _hell_?" she gasped, looking over at Jemma with wide eyes.

Jemma grimaced apologetically. "All S.H.I.E.L.D. six-one-six vehicles are equipped with an open line of communication," she explained. "I'm sorry, Skye. I thought you knew."

Fitz couldn't tell in the dim light, but he thought he saw a blush on Skye's cheeks. "So…they've heard everything we've been saying?"

"Yep," Ward replied dryly through the comm system. "Let's just say if I ever find myself in a horror movie, I know exactly what not to do now."

"Oh my God," Skye whispered, resting her head in her palm as she leaned against the window.

Jemma glanced briefly into the backseat and shared a knowing smirk with Fitz. He knew she was resisting the urge to laugh just as much as he was. Sure, it had been a last-minute decision, just like the Cavalry story.

But as far as freshman pranks go, this one hadn't been too shabby.

* * *

"Well," Jemma announced brightly as she pulled up next to a postbox marked with the number 537. "I think this is it."

Fitz resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she put the SUV in park. "No, I suppose there's another house in these parts with caution tape around it and the exact address Coulson gave us."

Jemma gave him a look of weary consternation before she exited the car and began gathering their equipment together. "You've been awful tonight, you know that?" she muttered as he walked around to her side. "More so than usual."

Fitz could have kicked himself. He didn't really know why he was being so short with her lately, but if it made her upset then he was definitely doing something wrong. He chalked it up to lack of sleep. "I know," he sighed, gently taking the D.W.A.R.F. case from her grasp and hoping she could see the sincerity in his expression. "Sorry."

Her gaze softened a bit, but she only held his for a moment. "It's fine," she said as she grabbed the spectrographic analyzer and began heading towards the house. "Let's just get this over with, yeah?"

Fitz nodded absently, following on her heels as they carefully ducked under the tape. The empty street was more than a little unsettling. The local police department in Batesville had allowed S.H.I.E.L.D. to conduct its own investigation, mostly because they'd been baffled by the occurrences themselves. But Fitz would have expected more than a deserted road as a greeting. He knew it was late, but surely with all the gossip surrounding the house there would've been at least _some_ people gathered around to see if the rumors were true.

He shook aside his distracting thoughts. The faster he and Jemma got in and figured out the problem, the faster they'd be out of this strange town, and the faster he'd find himself back in his nice warm bunk on the Bus.

Fitz set the D.W.A.R.F. case down on the large wraparound porch and got out the magnetometer, while Jemma readied one of the bots to do a brief scan of the house. Within a minute or so, the characteristic whirr buzzed past Fitz's ear to circle the structure.

"Sleepy's found an entry point in an upstairs window," Jemma murmured, examining the incoming information on their three-screened tablet. "He's not reading any radionuclides, or any alarming energy peaks for that matter." She glanced up, deftly catching Sleepy in her palm as he returned to her hand. "We've still got a couple of hours before we should be seeing any activity, if the reports are correct. It should be safe to enter for now."

Fitz gave a low laugh as he worked on putting some of their equipment in his rucksack. "I've seen quite a few horror movies too, Simmons," he shook his head. "And nothing good ever happens after you say things like that."

"Don't tell me you're buying into all that nonsense, Fitz," Jemma reprimanded him. "Skye was just trying to scare us, you know. Besides, even if this _is_ Tobias Ford, he's only a man."

"Yeah," Fitz agreed, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder as they prepared to enter the front door. "A man with the completely normal ability to materialize at random, with fun things in his hands like knives and wrenches."

Jemma didn't bother with a response, but Fitz could tell that despite her annoyed demeanor and professed confidence, she was as nervous as he was. The beam from his torch illuminated her hand, which hovered above the door handle.

After a few long seconds had passed, Fitz lightly nudged her elbow with his fingertip. "Did you want me to-"

"No, I've got it," she assured him, seeming to come out of her hesitant stupor. She gave him a tight smile, and he nodded in encouragement before she pressed down on the handle.

The door swung open without so much as a creak.

Fitz and Jemma stared into the darkness beyond the threshold, neither of them taking the first step forward. Fitz told himself it was to allow their eyes to adjust to the lighting, but that would've only been partly the truth. The moment stretched out for a while before Fitz decided to break the silence.

"Who you gonna call?" he whispered.

"Don't you dare-"

"_Ghostbusters_."

"Oh, _Fitz_," Jemma groaned, but he could see she was trying not to laugh.

It turned out a brief moment of humor was enough to give them both the confidence to step into the house, because the next thing Fitz knew, they were standing in an absurdly normal-looking living room. Jemma quickly found a light switch near the front entrance, which revealed a small foyer that narrowed into a corridor, a set of stairs leading up to a second level, and glimpses of a kitchen area near the back of the house.

Fitz shut off his torch, feeling the odd sensation that he and Jemma had just walked into someone's personal space. It's not that he'd been expecting an old, rickety house with cobwebs and unfinished walls, but…well…okay, that's exactly what he'd been expecting. The house he and Jemma were standing in right now was eerie in its own right, but only because it was so spookily…normal.

The reality left Fitz feeling deeply unsettled.

"Bit strange, isn't it?" Jemma said with a short laugh, although Fitz could see the flash of fear in her eyes and knew she felt a chill in her spine too.

"Very," Fitz agreed, hurriedly setting his rucksack down next to the sofa and removing the equipment he needed. "All the more reason to get this done fast."

He heard her take a deep breath as he started up the magnetometer. "Right," she murmured quietly, sounding more like she was trying to talk herself into something than respond to his comment. "Fast."

They worked in relative silence for the next thirty minutes or so, Jemma using the D.W.A.R.F.s to assess the building's structure, as well as any abnormalities in the chemical components of the air, while Fitz did a detailed analysis on the energy levels in their immediate vicinity.

"I'm getting a few spikes," Fitz finally told her with a slight shake of his head. "But nothing compared to what Foster found in New Mexico and London. All the reports say the portals opened following a massive geomagnetic storm, which is probably what-"

"That plant was trying to recreate with the particle accelerator," Jemma finished. "Makes sense."

"I suppose," he muttered noncommittally as he went back to his data. "Not quite sure what they were gonna do if it actually worked, though. Make weekend holiday trips to Asgard? Does no one remember Loki?"

He hadn't really thought Jemma would reply, since he was fairly certain they both knew what the existence of an Einstein-Rosen bridge meant in terms of groundbreaking scientific discovery. But it seemed to Fitz that, with the exception of Thor, nothing good had ever arrived on Earth via wormhole. Loki. The Chitauri. Whatever the hell had shown up in London. The mad technician-turned-psychopath, if he counted. Sure, the prospect of portal travel could open up so many doors (quite literally) in the world of physics.

But maybe some things were just better left alone.

Fitz had just set the magnetometer down on the dining room table when he heard a low buzz coming from near Jemma.

"Skye?" Jemma asked, adjusting the settings on her phone so Fitz could hear their conversation. "Did you manage to find out anything new?"

"The kids are still pretty shaken up," Skye responded, sounding like she was in a crowded room. "But I told them that I worked for MTV and wanted to do a reality series on real haunted houses in America, and they totally bought it."

"Oh, that was really clever, Skye," Jemma smiled.

"Yeah, smart thinking, that is," Fitz joined in.

Skye laughed. "What can I say? It's a gift. Only I thought it was a complete waste, since it meant that these kids must be pretty gullible, right? I mean, if they fell for that, who's to say they didn't just make up the whole story about the house in the first place? _But_ then I was listening to one of the guys, who honest to God _swears_ he saw the ghost of his father last night."

"What?" Jemma asked, her face twisted in confusion as she glanced over at Fitz. "The ghost of his father? Well, that hardly explains anything at all."

"No, but here's the kicker, guys," Skye continued. "The kid's name is Luke Delacourt."

"Delacourt, Delacourt," Jemma repeated in a murmur. "How do I know that name?" Fitz shrugged, although Jemma hadn't looked like she'd expected an answer from him. "Oh! Wait, isn't that-"

"Son of Frank Delacourt, one of the technicians that died in the blast?" Skye finished triumphantly. "Yup. Not exactly a big town."

Fitz met Jemma's eyes then, and though she didn't look particularly frightened, the color had drained from her face. "What are you saying, Skye?" she asked slowly, but Fitz could tell that she'd come to the same conclusion that he had.

"Don't you get it?" Skye replied in a loud whisper, as if to combat the risk of being overheard. "There were three other technicians in the explosion that day. I don't think it's Tobias that's trapped in between worlds this time."

Somehow, what little color that had remained in Jemma's face disappeared. She wrapped her arms around her torso and shifted from one foot to the other. "All right, how soon can you get over here?"

There was a short pause on the other line. "You're the ones that dropped _me_ off, remember?"

Jemma briefly closed her eyes, obviously distracted from the conversation. "Yes, yes, of course. Well, we haven't found anything over here yet, but we'll swing by and get you in about an hour or so, okay?"

"An _hour_?" Skye cried, before immediately lowering her voice. "You know I'm stuck with these kids until you get here, right? They're talking about showing me the, and I quote, 'Batesville nightlife,' which as far as I can tell includes a laundromat and a twenty-four hour diner known for its turducken special. I _need you_ to get me the hell out of here."

"Oh, don't knock it right away, Skye," Jemma said, sharing another smirk with Fitz. "You go enjoy yourself with your new friends and we'll come get you as soon as we're done here."

"But-"

"Bye now, darling."

Skye began another protestation, but Jemma ended the call before she could get a word in. As soon as the line closed, Fitz shook his head in awe.

"Absolutely brilliant, that was."

Jemma was barely containing her laughter. "She makes it so easy."

"Don't even have to try with that one, really."

"Practically pranks herself, for all the work we have to do."

Fitz sighed, realizing the circumstances were most likely not the most suitable for pranks. "But wouldn't it be better to have her here, though? You know, in case something happens?"

"Honestly, I'm still of the mind that we're dealing with nothing but an empty house here," Jemma replied. "But if that's not the case, it's probably in our best interest to have her out there, actually."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Fitz muttered, picking up the magnetometer again. "So…we're just gonna wait it out then? Sit around and hope no tortured souls come and attack us?"

Jemma shrugged. "Have you got any better ideas?"

Fitz stared expressionlessly at her for a moment. "Leaving."

She rolled her eyes and walked over to the sofa, plopping down unceremoniously. "Oh, please, Fitz. Coulson sent us all the way out here," she reasoned. "The least we can do is make _sure_ there's nothing to worry about. Besides, the disturbance reports were only ever filed in the middle of the night, so we've still got another hour or so before we'd be able to leave anyway."

Once again, Fitz knew she was right, but he still made sure to grumble on his way over to the sofa. He grabbed his rucksack on the way, rummaging through its contents to find what he was looking for. Jemma heaved a dramatic sigh when he made to hand her one of the packages.

"Fitz, you know that half the junk you eat makes me ill-" she began, only to stop abruptly as she saw what he was holding out to her. "What's this?" she asked, grabbing onto the small item and inspecting the nutritional information on the side.

"Meal bar," Fitz explained as he took a bite out of his own. "Odorless. Supposedly good for missions."

Jemma gave him a strange look, but she seemed more amused than anything else. "An odorless meal bar?" she laughed, starting to peel off the wrapper. "That hardly sounds like something you'd eat."

"It's actually not that bad."

She swallowed the bit in her mouth and nodded. "No, it's quite good, actually," she said before turning her head to look at him again. She still had that strange look on her face. It was like she was impressed or pleasantly surprised or something, but that couldn't have been it. Fitz hated to admit it, but for as well as he knew Jemma, he still had no clue what she was thinking about sometimes. "Where'd you get these?"

Fitz stopped chewing momentarily, knowing that he had to tread carefully with what he said next. He could hardly tell Jemma that the reason he'd discovered the bars was because the sandwich she'd so carefully made for him had been tossed into a puddle. "Um…Ward gave 'em to me," he said dismissively. "For emergencies or whatever."

"Ah," Jemma replied, smiling a little as she seemed to finally understand. "That makes _loads_ more sense now."

Fitz was about to retaliate, but remembered what Jemma had said earlier about his attitude and thought better of it. Instead, he reached over and grabbed the remote, deciding that if they were going to be waiting around they might as well have some entertainment. As he flipped through the channels, he half expected Jemma to scold him for watching someone else's television, or at least make some kind of remark about his lack of propriety. But she remained mostly quiet, simply crossing her legs and leaning her elbow on the sofa's armrest.

The whole situation _was_ a bit bizarre, though: the two of them sitting in a stranger's empty house, eating and watching the telly whilst waiting for a potential cosmic convergence. And yet as they sat there, passing a bottle of water between them and commenting on the scientific inaccuracy of whatever sci-fi show they'd settled on, Fitz was also struck by the _normalcy_ of it all. How this would've been the typical night for them before they'd joined Coulson's team, simply relaxing after a long day of working in the lab.

Fitz used to say he missed those days. And maybe he still did. Maybe he'd always long for some semblance of a normal life, where he could work with Jemma and not have to fear for his life nearly every day. But maybe, just maybe, there was some small part of him that was glad Jemma had dragged him along for the ride.

Even if the ride included spending the night in a presumably haunted house.

Funnily enough, Jemma was the first one to nod off, and she was curled up in such a position that her head naturally came to rest upon his shoulder. Fitz didn't really mind, of course. He'd lost count of how many times Jemma had fallen asleep on his arm. And as he robotically switched through the stations, landing on some American soap opera or other, he figured there were much worse times to be had in haunted houses. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe they'd get lucky, and all the stories about the building would prove to be just that: stories.

Luck hadn't been too kind to them lately, though, so Fitz couldn't have said he was surprised when after about an hour the screen randomly turned off, as well as all the lights in the living room. Jemma jerked awake at his side, blinking rapidly and mumbling something incoherent that morphed into a loose version of, "What's going on?"

Fitz quickly put a hand on her arm, and brought his other pointer finger in front of his lips in the universal gesture for her to be quiet. He glanced up at the ceiling, listening for…he wasn't sure what he was listening for, exactly. But after sitting in silence for long enough that a low buzz had filled his ears, he knew he had to say something.

"Power went out," he whispered.

Jemma didn't make a sarcastic remark, even though Fitz would've preferred that to the look of sheer terror that flashed across her face. "Is it…did we blow a fuse?" she suggested unconvincingly.

"Only had the telly on, Jemma."

"No, I _know _that, I just thought…well, perhaps the circuits have become more sensitive…i-in the wake of the explosion?" Her expression betrayed her own disbelief at her words. "Or…maybe not, I don't know. Why don't you go check, and I'll deploy the D.W.A.R.F.s to search for any additional irregularities."

Fitz tried not to show any signs of his wariness, and refrained from grabbing onto her as she made to move off the sofa. "Or _you_ could go check, and _I _can send out the D.W.A.R.F.s."

She gave a short laugh. "Fitz, you can reset a circuit breaker in your sleep."

"Yeah, well, most of the time, I don't have to worry about vengeful spirits hopping between worlds," he hissed. "Or had you forgotten about that part?"

His vision hadn't fully adjusted to the darkness yet, but he knew without a doubt that Jemma was rolling her eyes at him. "It'll only take a minute, Fitz," she said in a disturbingly calm voice as she handed him his torch.

He tried again. "You know, Skye mentioned something about not separating, remember?"

By way of response, she placed a radio in his other palm. "If you're afraid, you can talk your way through it."

It took him a while to find his words. "I-I'm not _afraid_-" he stammered.

"Then hurry up, please," she interrupted, sounding farther away as she continued into the dining room. "The D.W.A.R.F.s don't require light, but I'd rather _not_ be stumbling around in the dark if I can help it."

Fitz soon realized that the more time he spent arguing with her, the more time they were unnecessarily spending in that house. He was less than thrilled at the prospect, but before he could properly wig out he switched on his torch, tucked the radio into his pocket, and grabbed his Night-Night gun, heading over to the door that led into the cellar.

As he descended into the cold basement, the darkness seemed to envelop him on all sides. Fitz tried not to entertain the thought that if this _were_ a horror movie, he would most likely wind up dead before the title credits. Not only was he breaking the obvious separation rule, he was also venturing into a black pit of doom. By himself. In a haunted house.

In all honesty, Fitz felt that being afraid in his situation was a perfectly natural and justifiable emotion.

Not that he _was_ afraid, of course. Concerned, perhaps. And rightly so.

It didn't take him long to locate the house's electrical panel, deftly placing his torch between his teeth as he inspected the fuse. It took him even less time to figure out that a blown fuse was the least of their worries, and also not the problem. He quickly took the radio out of his pocket. "Jemma, it's not a fuse," he told her as he tried to keep as still as possible. "Are the bots reading anything up there?"

He removed his thumb from the button, waiting with bated breath for her response. Five seconds passed, then ten. "Jemma?" he repeated in a louder voice.

Still nothing.

"Damn it," he swore, resisting the urge to throw the blasted device on the ground. He took the steps two at a time on his way back up to the main floor, so distracted with panic that he barely registered that something was off – either the air felt different or the concrete under his shoes or the weight of the door as he pushed it open. But he didn't have time to analyze small details.

"Jemma?" he called out again, shining his torch down the hallway on his way to the living room. "Jemma, the radios aren't working. We should-"

He stopped short upon entering the foyer. Jemma was in neither of the front rooms, and Fitz didn't even think he could hear a single D.W.A.R.F. whirring throughout the house. There was also the alarming fact that she wasn't responding to him.

"Jemma," he said, hating the tinge of panic in his voice. His gaze wandered to the flight of steps leading upstairs. "Jemma, just stop it, all right? This cruel brand of pranking is the exact opposite of funny."

After a few more seconds of silence, Fitz took to the stairs, muttering curses under his breath the entire way. The upper level of the house only contained a bathroom and two bedrooms, but peeking into each space revealed little else besides empty rooms.

"Jemma, you've got a lot of nerve to call me childish when you're the one playing hide and seek in a strange house."

Fitz hadn't expected her to answer, but her lack of a response still managed to send his heart rate into distressing levels. He stood in the doorway of the last bedroom, listening for some kind of assurance that she was there, and even took a few steps inside in the feeble hope that he'd discover her hiding spot. He was about to give up and search somewhere else when his eyes traveled to the window, where the beam from his torch showed the black world outside. But as he squinted into the night, he thought he caught a glimpse of something in the reflection, something that kept him rooted to the spot, something just behind him…

Summoning up his last ounce of courage, Fitz spun around quickly, aiming his Night-Night gun in the doorway.

It was empty.

Fitz let out a long sigh, but his heartbeat barely showed any signs of slowing down. He shook his head and made his way back out into the corridor, determined to find Jemma and get out of that cursed house as fast as humanly possible. He continued to hold his Night-Night gun up at the ready, though, his body unwilling to give up his only source of protection against whatever he'd seen (or thought he'd seen).

He'd only made it a few steps when he felt that odd sensation he'd felt in the basement: the instinct that something had changed, some small miniscule detail that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He had plenty of other things to worry about, though, like the chill that had just gone down his spine or the fact that Jemma thought this was an appropriate time to prank him or the tricks his eyes had played on him back in that room, or-

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

Fitz's torch clattered on the hardwood floor as he instinctively reached his arm up to rid himself of his attacker. But the fingertips he brushed against were soft, and rather on the small side, and practically as familiar to him as his own…

"_Bleeding_ hell, Jemma," Fitz cursed, turning around to give her the sternest look he could muster. "Are you _out of your mind_?"

Jemma's mouth hung open. "_Me_?" she squeaked. "I've been looking for you for the past _twenty_ minutes, Fitz. Where the _hell_ have you been? Why didn't you answer me?"

"What?" Fitz asked in confusion, glancing down at his watch. "Pretty sure I was only gone for five…and wait, hang on, _you're_ the one who didn't answer _me_, Miss Let's Send Fitz to the Creepy Cellar by Himself and Conveniently Be of No Help at All."

"Says the engineer that couldn't manage to turn the lights back on," Jemma countered.

"It wasn't a blown fuse, Jemma."

He waited a beat for the realization to dawn on her face. "We should probably-"

"Yeah."

The two of them raced down the staircase, Fitz making sure to keep Jemma in front of him in case she decided she wanted to disappear again. "The magnetometer picked up a rather large energy increase," Jemma breathlessly explained as they gathered their equipment together. "I think we were right, Fitz. Partial though it may be, the Convergence still seems to be taking effect, only the point of contact just so happens to be a fixed location this time."

"Brilliant," Fitz muttered sarcastically. "As soon as we get out of here, we'll write a damn paper about it."

But Jemma's attention had redirected to her phone, and the crease in her brow grew more pronounced. "Skye's not answering," she said, pressing a few more keys on the screen before raising it to her ear again.

Fitz waited a few seconds to ask, even though he already knew the answer to his question. "It's not just Skye, is it?"

Jemma simply pocketed her phone and picked up the D.W.A.R.F. case, wasting no time before making a beeline for the door. Fitz didn't know when exactly he figured it out, but it was somewhere in between eagerly following on Jemma's heels and the second she pulled on the handle.

The door wouldn't budge.

"No, no, no," Jemma groaned, resting her forehead against the wood. "Fitz, I can't…it's not-"

"All right, let me try," Fitz said, motioning for her to move aside. He had a feeling his efforts would be fruitless, but he had to at least try. He fiddled with the locks on the door, even got out his pocketknife and tried to access the tumblers, while Jemma moved over into the living room and made an attempt to open the windows.

"It's not going to work, Fitz," she sighed, and he abandoned his frustrating task. "I didn't want to say anything earlier, but…well…"

Her hesitant expression did nothing to calm the panic Fitz felt rising in his chest. "What?"

She took a deep breath. "When I went downstairs to look for you, I…well, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, you know, didn't really give it much-"

"Jemma," Fitz interrupted, knowing she would ramble for hours if he didn't stop her.

"I saw a man down there."

Fitz's mouth felt dry all of a sudden. "You sure?"

"Well, no, that's why I didn't want to say anything. He was only there for a moment, and when I tried to get a closer look, he just disappeared."

"And it's not-"

"Not Tobias, no," Jemma shook her head.

"And did he, um…he didn't look…angry, did he?"

"No, just more…sad, I suppose?" Jemma replied, looking off to the side as if she were trying to recall some small detail. "I think he was trying to tell me something, actually."

Fitz was more than a little disturbed that she didn't seem nearly as frightened as she ought to have. "I think I saw him, too," he said quietly. "Upstairs, though. You don't suppose he's that bloke's dad, do you?"

"That's the only logical explanation I can think of."

"So that means that he's-"

"Trapped, yes, that's what I was thinking. Except…I'm not so sure he's the only one trapped right now."

Jemma glanced pointedly at the door, and though Fitz had come to the same conclusion himself, hearing it spoken aloud managed to add onto his already existing panic. "But this only happens for a couple hours every night, yeah?" Fitz asked, trying to remain reasonable. "So we can just wait it out, can't we?"

"I'm not so sure," Jemma murmured, reaching over to grab onto Fitz's wrist. She turned his arm over. "Yeah, that's what I thought." She held his watch up and showed him her own alongside it. "Quarter of an hour apart."

"What?" Fitz asked, shining his torch onto the watches.

"When we were separated," Jemma explained. "You claimed you'd only been gone five minutes, even though I was _sure_ it was twenty. This house isn't very large, Fitz. How was it that we both kept missing each other and you didn't hear me when I called out for you?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Fitz chuckled, placing two fingers on the bridge of his nose. "Are you suggesting that I went through a portal without realizing it?" He shook his head. "You've come up with some pretty interesting theories in the past, Simmons, but I think this one takes the cake."

"Is it that outlandish of a theory?" Jemma asked exasperatedly. "Because I don't know if you've noticed, but conventional methods of leaving this house are currently unavailable, power and all communications are down, _and_ we've both seen what can only be described as the apparition of a dead man. It's not exactly a large leap to time paradoxes. And if that's true, then who _knows_ how long we've actually been in here, Fitz?"

"Fine, fine," Fitz dismissed, closing his eyes briefly in concentration. "So…so we need something to close the portal then, yeah? Or-or shift-"

"Shift the Convergence enough to break us out. Yes, I believe so."

Fitz sighed, each passing second further convincing him that this entire enterprise had been a mistake. "All right, I think I've got an idea," he said, digging into his rucksack. "But it'll be a bit of a risk."

Jemma pointed her torch at his palm to see the objects he'd extracted. "It'll have to do, I guess. Probably be best if we do it in the cellar, though."

He didn't exactly relish in the prospect of going back down to that basement again, but he had to concur. Later (if the plan worked, that is), Fitz might actually laugh about the similarities between seeking safety from tornados and convergences. But right now he was more concerned with getting them both out of there in one piece (and in the correct dimension).

"Yep. Oh, but hey, no more separating, okay?"

Jemma nodded in agreement. "No more separating," she repeated, stepping over to his side so she could link her arm with his. "Wouldn't want you to go through any more portals without me."

Fitz didn't crack a smile, but he appreciated her attempt to lighten the situation, as well as the reassurance of her presence as they edged their way over to the basement door. The darkness seemed even more oppressive than it had earlier, the light from his torch only barely illuminating the first few feet ahead of them. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Fitz led them towards the center of the room, as far away from any shelves or other heavy objects that could dislodge in the process of whatever was about to happen (which frankly he still wasn't quite sure about).

He went to reach into his pocket, ready to get the whole thing over with, but Jemma let out a gasp and tightened her grip on his arm. "Fitz, behind you," she whispered.

Despite the nails digging into his skin, Fitz still managed to turn around, holding up his torch and Night-Night gun. "What do you want?" he asked in a low voice. He was acutely aware of everything around him: the pressure with which he'd need to pull the trigger, the sound of Jemma's shallow breathing next to his right shoulder, the distance between them and the man in the corner of the basement.

The man raised his hands up in a gesture of conciliation. "Please," he croaked. "I'm not-"

But his words were cut off as he disappeared from view. "Trying to hurt you," he continued, reappearing not five feet away from them. Jemma jumped a little in surprise, and Fitz readjusted his aim, now in front of the staircase. The man was standing between them and their only route of escape. "I don't know how to control it."

Fitz opened his mouth to speak, but Jemma spoke up first. "Mr…Mr. Delacourt?" she asked hesitantly, releasing her hold on Fitz in order to step closer to the man.

"Jemma," Fitz said by way of warning.

Jemma maddeningly ignored him, taking another step. "Frank Delacourt?"

Fitz was baffled to see the man's eyes fill with tears. "Yes," he nodded vehemently, looking more relieved that someone knew his name than Fitz would've expected. "Yes, how-"

"There was an explosion," Jemma explained gently. "At the complex? Do you remember any of it?"

The man (Delacourt, apparently) was quiet for a few moments, his shoulders sinking as he appeared lost in thought. "The last thing I remember before…before this place…was being out on the back lot. I just stepped outside for a _minute_, and the next thing I knew…" His voice trailed off as he met Jemma's gaze. "The other technicians that were there that day. Tobias, Jack, Arlene. They're…they're all dead, aren't they?" He already seemed to know the answer, though, not bothering to wait for a response. "I think I'm dead too," he finished in a whisper, glancing down at his hands.

"Well, it's…it's complicated, sir," Jemma replied cautiously. Delacourt lifted his head at her words. "We think that despite the blast, your mission at Staticorp was still a successful one."

Delacourt's eyes widened. "You mean…" he murmured, looking around at the stark concrete basement walls in disbelief. "It worked? I'm in…I'm in another realm right now?"

"Not quite," Jemma clarified. "Our theory is that this place has become the location of a small apex for the Convergence, one that was temporarily created through the explosion of the particle accelerator. Acting as some sort of crossroads between worlds, if you will."

Delacourt nodded a bit to himself, like he should've known. "Purgatory," he said quietly.

"For…lack of a better word."

He nodded again, his attention moving from Jemma to Fitz to the rucksack of equipment Fitz had on his back. "You're going to close it, aren't you?" he asked, but the way he said it sounded more like a statement than a question. "Create an electromagnetic pulse or something, to shift the apex?"

"We're gonna try, at least," Fitz muttered, finally lowering his Night-Night gun so he could access the EMP devices in his pocket. "Otherwise we'd be stuck here indefinitely."

"It's a good plan," Delacourt assured them, his tone suggesting he'd already accepted his fate. "And the right thing to do."

"You know," Jemma said. "If this works, it's entirely possible you could walk out of here tonight."

Delacourt looked down at his hands again, a rueful smile on his lips. "No, I…I was too close to the blast, been here too long. I think this is the end of the road for me. Or…or beginning of the road. Who knows? I guess I'll find out soon." He let out a quiet laugh as he shook his head. "My wife used to always say that I'd get myself killed if I didn't quit smoking. But I don't think this is what she meant."

Fitz heard Jemma breathe in sharply, something she was prone to do when she was trying to hold back tears. "I'm sorry, sir," she said in a small voice. "Is there…is there anything we can do?"

Delacourt sighed. "Could you, um…could you tell my wife I love her? And Luke. He was here earlier, I think." The small smile was still on his face, despite the heaviness of his words. "I tried to talk to him, but…but I don't think he could hear me. If you see him, could you tell him I'm proud of him? And that I-" His voice cut out again as his image flickered a few feet to the right. "That I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't stick around a little while longer."

"Yes, of-of course, sir," Jemma sniffed, and Fitz instinctively stepped closer to her. He didn't think she was fully crying, but her eyes still shone in the darkness. And even if this guy wasn't nearly as terrifying as the last one, the random teleportation was still unsettling.

"Thank you," Delacourt replied. "Now, you should hurry. You don't know how much time you have before the realms separate again."

"Right," Jemma whispered, turning to face Fitz.

"Jemma," he began quietly as she took one of the EMP devices out of his palm. "You know there's a chance that-"

"I know," she nodded gravely. "But what other choice do we have?"

Fitz wished they had more time to think through other options, or perhaps that somehow the Convergence would shift on its own and place them back in the world they belonged in. But after seeing and experiencing how random the portal activity could be, this plan of action was probably their best bet.

"Together, yeah?" he asked, meeting her eyes so he knew they were on the same page.

"Together," she agreed, and took a deep breath as she huddled close to him. "One…"

Fitz almost put his arm around her, but decided against it at the last second. "Two…"

"Three," they said, pressing down on the buttons at the same time.

For a long time, they simply stood there in silence, waiting for some kind of confirmation that the pulses had worked. Fitz had known it would be a long shot, that they would've been able to successfully create a disturbance in the magnetic fields surrounding the portal. But he'd expected to at least know one way or the other. He swept the beam of his torch throughout the cellar.

Delacourt was gone.

Jemma was still lightly clutching onto his arm. "Did it-"

Just then, a loud humming noise pierced the darkness, followed closely by a light bulb flickering on above them. Fitz jumped involuntarily, which was unfortunate because he ended up bumping into the generator, where a small black creature darted out, spitting at them as it bounded up the staircase. Fitz assumed that the scream was Jemma's, but that was until he realized that the sound was coming out of his own mouth.

"How the _bloody hell_ did a cat get down here?" Fitz spluttered once he found his words again.

"No idea," Jemma gasped, her voice coming out oddly strangled. "Fitz, I know you're lean and all that, but you still are a bit heavier than me."

All at once, Fitz became painfully aware of the position he was in. Somehow in his surprise he'd latched onto the nearest thing, which just so happened to be Jemma. For her part, she'd caught him rather effortlessly, but there was the problematic issue that Jemma Simmons was carrying him and Fitz was absolutely not okay with that.

He immediately leaped out of her arms, landing a few feet away but not nearly far enough to escape with any amount of pride. "I didn't, uh…I mean, thanks for the, um…" he stammered, vaguely gesturing towards her and avoiding her eyes altogether. "You don't suppose we could, er…maybe forget about this?"

Jemma rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. "Come on, Fitz," she sighed and began heading towards the staircase. "Let's get out of here."

Fitz's cheeks were still burning as he followed her. As soon as she touched the railing, though, a low buzzing sound filled the space. Jemma let out a yelp and stumbled on the bottom step, falling backwards a little before Fitz gently pushed her shoulders forward. She spun around, grabbing onto the railing with both hands.

"Your phone, Jemma," Fitz told her, doing his best to keep the smirk off his face.

Jemma's shoulders sunk forward with relief, but she paused before continuing up the steps, a look of embarrassment on her face. "How about after today, we never speak of this again?"

"Right you are," Fitz replied solemnly.

He didn't think much could surprise him anymore, after the absurdity of what had just occurred. But less than thirty seconds later, he and Jemma emerged from the front door to a large crowd, no less than five police cars, and blinding sunlight.

Fitz barely had time to process the spectacle before Skye had run up the porch and flung her arms around the two of them. "_Where the hell have you been_?" she shouted, giving Fitz a not-so-light punch in the arm as she pulled away. "It's been _eight hours_."

Fitz and Jemma shared a glance before turning back to Skye. "You wouldn't believe us if we told you."

Skye scoffed at them, shaking her head incredulously. "Well, I'm not the one you're gonna have to explain it to," she smirked, and Fitz noticed a stern-looking Coulson and a similarly ominous May standing on the outskirts of the crowd. "You two are in some _pretty_ big trouble."

Jemma groaned quietly. "Oh, dear."

The rest of that afternoon passed by in a haze, what with double-checking the energy readings from the house, assuring the local authorities that everything was under control, finding Delacourt's wife and son (Jemma had done most of the talking on that one, though Fitz did add his moral support), enduring a rather unpleasant lecture from Coulson, and receiving a call from HQ regarding super-soldier activity at Havenworth Penitentiary. Coulson had been so shaken by the news that surprisingly they'd gotten away with only a warning, and the team had immediately headed back to the Bus for their newest mission.

All in all, though Fitz hadn't been too thrilled by the task to begin with, he was thankful that he and Jemma had made it through. With all major parts intact. In the proper dimension. In the proper world. And ultimately, together.

Perhaps luck really was on their side.

Relatively speaking.

Years later, when the circumstances in their lives gave them an opportunity to visit a haunted house on Halloween, Fitz and Jemma respectfully declined the invitation and enjoyed a quiet night in instead.

They often said it was one of the best decisions they'd ever made.

* * *

**A/N: **Below is the track listing for the soundtrack, which can be found on 8tracks (under the username msdevindanielle). These are just a collection of songs that I was inspired by while writing this. It's in some semblance of a chronological order, but most of the songs can be applied to more than one scene/character, so feel free to make your own interpretations. :)

1\. Marvel Studios Fanfare - Brian Tyler

2\. Overture - Sleeping at Last

3\. Little Talks - Julia Sheer &amp; Jon D.

4\. Conquest of Spaces - Woodkid

5\. Things I Don't Understand - Coldplay

6\. We Found Each Other in the Dark - City and Colour

7\. Ghosts That We Knew - Mumford &amp; Sons

8\. The Lion the Beast the Beat - Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

Much love,

MsDevinDanielle


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